


a little faith

by seimaisin



Series: Priya Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the Inquisitor doubts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little faith

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Blackwall's personal quest.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been laying on her bed, her arm over her eyes, when she hears familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. “Priya?” 

(She’s Priya here, only here, and in the tiny loft above Cullen’s office. Only two places she can be herself. She’s grateful for them.)

She doesn’t say anything, not even to acknowledge his presence. A few moments later, she feels the bed dip beside her. Only then does she lower her arm, to idly tug at a piece of cloth sticking out between his armor pieces. “Did I do the right thing?” she asks.

Cullen nods. “You did.” 

“Are you sure? Because … I feel wrong.”

He stretches out next to her, his shoulders propped against the headboard. It’s not as comforting to lay her head on his pauldrons as it is his bare shoulder, but it’s better than nothing. He puts an arm around her and presses his lips to her hair. “You made the best of a bad situation. Blackwall’s - Ranier’s,” he corrects himself, “problems are not your fault.”

“I know. But …” She hesitates. “You know, I was never meant to be in charge. Of anything.” When she feels Cullen shift, she lifts her head from his chest and leans on her elbow instead. “I’m the youngest of four. My oldest brother gets the title and the family lands, my other brother is a military officer. My sister got married a few years ago, to an Antivan lord, and she runs his household now.”

“What were your plans?” 

Priya shrugs. “The Chantry. Or, that was what I was supposed to do, at least according to my father’s family. That’s what the youngest nobles do. The ones who don’t matter.” When Cullen opens his mouth to speak, she shakes her head. “It’s how they think. How we think. I can’t pretend I’m not one of them.”

“You are from nobility, that’s true. But I can’t imagine you didn’t matter to your family.”

“To my family? Sure, I mattered. But in the grand scheme of things …” Priya shakes her head again. “That’s not the point I was trying to make. The thing is, I never learned the political games of nobility, because I was never meant to play them. But I’m playing them now. And apparently I absorbed more than I thought.”

“Why does that sound like a criticism?”

“It is.” She sighs and rolls onto her back. “I used my influence to subvert justice for one of my friends. It’s what they - we all do.”

“Come now.” Cullen now rests on his elbow, staring down at her. “No matter what Blackwall has done, we know he is an asset to the Inquisition. You’ve put worse men to use, for the good of our cause.” 

“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “He looks at me differently now, and that’s hard to take.”

“You need to take it. That’s your job.” When Priya blinks up at him, Cullen’s mouth sets in a firm line. “You make decisions that many do not agree with. You cannot win the favor of everyone.”

“I had hoped to keep the favor of my friends. There are so few of them.” Priya closes her eyes.

She feels a light caress on her cheek. “I wish I could tell you that friends will always remain, but I’ve unfortunately learned the truth. Sometimes you lose people. It can’t be helped.”

“I know.” Priya opens her eyes and gives Cullen a small, sad smile. “I just need a little while to get used to it.” 

“If it helps, I promise that you’ll never lose me.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Unless you decide to switch sides and help Corypheus take over the world, then you’re on your own.”

“I promise, my world domination plans do not include long-dead Tevinter magisters.” Her smile spreads, and loses its sorrow. “I do have a spot for a talented ex-Templar, though.”

“Do you now? What kind of talents would you require?”

“If you have a little time, I’ll show you.”

Cullen laughs. “I have training exercises to oversee. May I defer until later?”

“Oh, very well.”

He kisses her forehead, then rises from the bed. When he gets to the top of the staircase, he pauses, looking back at her. “For the record,” he says, “you were absolutely meant to be in charge. I can’t imagine anyone else doing what you do here.”

“Even if I’m not actually Andraste’s chosen?” She means it to be a joke, but somehow, it comes out far closer to bitter.

“Even if. You’re our chosen. My chosen.”

The words settle in Priya’s chest, a warmth that lasts long after Cullen departs. Faith, she thinks, is a brilliant, terrifying thing.


End file.
